The poem is a quiet argument for living without needing to be the center of the story. Its title, "Self-abnegation," suggests giving up the self, and the first lines seem to do just that: to live "sufficiently" means having nothing you need to find yourself in. No role, no mirror, no grand identity to prove. Enough is enough.
The second part widens the idea. The speaker says no theater will show a play better than what they "let be." That phrase matters. It isn't "what I make" or "what I do," but what I allow to happen. Life, left alone and simply watched, is the best drama on offer.
The mood is calm, almost humble, with a hint of stubborn confidence. The speaker doesn't sound sad about letting go of the self. They sound settled, even pleased. The short lines and plain words give the poem a still, uncluttered feel, as if the speaker has set down something heavy and is simply looking around.